


When Evil Reigns

by PocketSizedWolf



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Kidnapping, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-26 04:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PocketSizedWolf/pseuds/PocketSizedWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after A Scandal in Belgravia and disregarding anything that comes afterwards. Irene Adler has her way and bankrupts the government. At the same time, Moriarty takes control of the country. Sherlock goes into hiding, taking his best friends with him. Total Sherlolly fic. Rated T for now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The dark figured moved along the edge of the rooftop, dressed head to toe in dark clothes. Her long hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail that cascaded down her back, perfectly straight without having to be straightened with heat. She'd lost her sense of fear months ago, after the events that had brought the country to it's knees. Great Britain had become a frightening place to live, now. The Queen had lost her country. Mycroft Holmes had lost his government. And all at the hands of one extremely clever dominatrix and one extremely mad consulting criminal. The figure made her way quietly down the fire escape at the side of the building, occasionally checking behind her to make sure she wasn't being followed, and ran swiftly along the alley behind a row of shops. As she came to the end, she turned down a narrow pathway and moved towards the reasonably hidden entrance of a cellar, tapping lightly on the door. After a few seconds, a metal panel in the door pulled back, and a pair of dark eyes looked out at her.  
"It's me.." she breathed softly, stepping closer to the door. The panel slid closed once more and the door swung open. She slipped through into the darkness, and the door slammed behind her.  
"You were quicker than we thought.." the owner of the dark eyes mumbled as he locked the doors  
"Double check them.."  
"I did.."  
"No you didn't. We can't afford mistakes, Anderson.." the woman glanced at the former forensics expert as she slipped off her coat and handed it to him.  
"Well, I'll.. check again.."

She made her way along a long, concrete corridor, ignoring the doors along the sides. She'd almost gotten used to the smell of fermenting alcohol that seemed to plague the building. She wasn't sure what it used to be before it became their fortress, but she'd heard whispers that it was an abandoned bingo hall. She made her way up a flight of stairs, passing what used to be the main, front entrance to the building. It had been bricked up recently, solid so that no one could get in. Everything had been bricked up. There were only two exits from the building; the hidden entrance she'd entered through, and a secret passageway for escape in case of attack.

She pushed open a large, oak door, and four pairs of eyes were immediately on her. Before she knew it, long arms had wrapped around her, pulling her into the warmth of a lean, male body.  
"What's that for?" she asked softly as she looked up at the owner of the arms, his pale blue eyes meeting her dark ones.  
"I worry about you when you leave.."  
"You sent me out"  
"Because you were the only one I could trust with this, Molly.. Doesn't mean I don't worry.."  
"I'm fine, Sherlock.. I took the roof way.." he smiled at that and released her from his hold, pulling back slightly. His eyes quickly scanned her and she smiled softly under his gaze.  
"I know what you're doing, but I'm honestly fine. I didn't see anyone.."  
Satisfied, Sherlock moved back to his seat. Molly followed him, sitting down beside him, and silently handing him a piece of paper.  
"Nice to see you back safe, though, Molly.." Greg Lestrade smiled at the young woman and she returned it kindly.  
"Molly, darling.. Do you want some tea?"  
"I'd love a cup, thank you, Mrs Hudson." Molly smiled at the older woman as she got up from her seat and moved towards the small, portable kettle in the corner.  
"Yeah, I could do with one too, Mrs H.."  
"A please would be nice, John Watson.." Mrs Hudson reprimanded. "The world might have gone to hell, but manners needn't."  
"Yes.. sorry.." The former army doctor scratched the back of his head. "Please."  
Sherlock cleared his throat.  
"Well as lovely as this exchange is.. Can we get on with it?" he unfolded the paper Molly had handed him, quickly reading it before putting it quickly into his pocket without a word. If they were curious about it's contents, Lestrade, John and Mrs Hudson didn't make it obvious.

"You're sure this is true?" Sherlock turned to Molly when they were alone in their bedroom, unfolding the piece of paper once more.  
"Not completely, no.. The Homeless network made sure I got it, but I didn't see him for myself."  
"Probably for the best.. Moriarty would have you killed the minute you got close."  
Molly sighed and sat down on the bed. It was a luxury, she knew. There were at least 130 people staying in their hideout, and very few of them had beds. Her bed was the last thing she'd thought of when Sherlock had turned up on her doorstep at 2 in the morning asking her to flee with him, she'd made sure to bring whatever small luxuries they could manage quickly. She'd spent that first night sleeping on a hard wooden floor in Sherlock's arms, but the aches and pains came quickly. Initially, it had just been the 4 of them; Sherlock, John, Mrs Hudson and herself, and they all had a nice warm, comfortable place to sleep within a week thanks to Sherlock and his homeless network who managed to move each of their beds under cover of darkness. But then Lestrade, Donovan and Anderson had shown up, and Sherlock had sacrificed his own bed. He now shared Molly's when he did, actually sleep. As Moriarty's reign of terror continued, however, more and more people showed up, and the rooms began to fill up. It was a large building, but not large enough. Sacrifices had to be made, and now Molly and Sherlock had been moved to the smallest room at the very top of the building. It was all they needed, though, really. Sherlock had privacy, quiet time for when he needed to think, and Molly had made it as comfortable as she possibly could. Now it could, at least, be considered homely. "Do you think it's true?" she asked after a while, shifting herself to lie back against the pile of pillows that had been brought from her flat. It was smaller than it had been then, as she'd given some away to those who didn't have something to rest their head on.  
"I can only hope.. But I don't know.. If this is true, and he's still alive.. I'm not sure how much longer he will be." Sherlock sighed, sitting down beside him. He shifted himself so he was lying with his head in her lap. Molly immediately began playing with his hair, twirling his curls around her fingers.  
"Then what do we do?" she asked softly, planting a gentle kiss on his forehead.  
"Simple. We come up with a plan to rescue him.. We'll be much better with Mycroft in our ranks.."


	2. Chapter 2

The hot water ran steadily down her back, easing any aches and pains that happened to flow through her body. Hot water was a luxury these days, and one Molly was ever so thankful of. She hadn't expected the feeling of somebody else climbing into the shower behind her. Gentle hands wrapped around her as she jumped.  
"I thought you were going out.." she mused softly as gentle fingers began soaping her down, lightly cleaning away the dirt from her body, expertly working to soothe her muscles.  
"I thought it was best to join you.. Saves on water.." Sherlock's velvet voice filled her ear as he planted a gentle kiss beneath her ear.  
"That makes sense.." she chuckled softly, as Sherlock began to gently shampoo her hair. The gentle stream washed away the dirt and grime from her long hair, refreshing it and giving both her hair and her mind a new lease of life. His fingers eased her beyond anything she could imagine, but then Sherlock often did have the ability to prevent her from thinking of anything that wasn't him.  
"I could have done that myself.." she chuckled softly as he manoeuvred her beneath the stream of water.  
"No need.."

It was amazing what one simple shower could do, she realised as she stepped out of it, wrapping a thick, fluffy white towel around herself before Sherlock wrapped his arms around her once more.  
"I think I can dry myself, Sherlock.." she giggled softly and he smiled warmly, turning her around to face him. His fingers brushed through her hair and he planted a kiss on her forehead.  
"What was that for?"  
"Today is going to be dangerous... I worry about you."  
"Why? You don't worry about John and Greg this much."  
"They're not you."  
"Is it because I'm a woman?" she asked, frowning, her eyes daring him to admit that it was. She wasn't a little girl. She definitely didn't need Sherlock looking out for her as though she was made of glass.  
"Of course not. I worry about you because.. I love you"  
Her eyes widened. She'd not expected that revelation. He worried about her because he loved her.. She couldn't be mad at him for that. Instead, she pressed a gentle kiss against his lips.  
"I'll be careful"

The footsteps on the pavement unnerved her as they walked in step with her. She reassured herself silently that it was Sherlock behind her, that she wasn't being followed by a stranger or, worse, an enemy. Her hair had been tied into a tight bun, and she was outfitted purely in tight, black clothing that helped her move in the darkness, unseen. She felt like a cat burglar from a movie, though the reality was far less glamorous. The walk wasn't exactly scenic, but then a walk through the sewers never was. But it was the fastest way to where they needed to be without being seen. No one ever thought to guard the sewers, something Sherlock had deemed 'idiotic' because it was such an easy way to travel through the city. If one could deal with the smell.

Sherlock's fingers linked together and slipped beneath Molly's foot, pushing her upwards. Her fingers gripped at the metal ladder rungs as Sherlock continued to push her up until her free foot was on the lowest rung. She began to climb slowly, glancing back only once, when she was halfway to the top, to ensure that he'd managed to pull himself up. Eventually, she reached the top and she pushed off the cover that kept the sewers from the city streets above. She climbed out and inhaled the fresh air with gusto, pleased to be free of the terrible odour from below. Sherlock climbed out behind her, replacing the manhole cover but leaving it at an angle to make it easier to remove should they need to travel back along that route. Molly hoped that they wouldn't, that the plan would go perfectly, but in this world, with Jim Moriarty in charge, you had to be prepared.

Molly looked up at the large building with awe. She'd not expected this, not expected something so vast but thinking about it, she wasn't sure how she'd not expected it. Moriarty had won. Of course he'd take over the most luxurious of buildings. Sherlock quickly pulled out a small piece of paper, glancing over it before he gripped Molly's hand, pulling her around the side of the building.  
"Keep watch.." he whispered softly as he knelt in the grass, looking up at a large stone wall. A secret passage way from the 16th century still existed and it would take him a few seconds to find the entrance in such low lighting, but he was determined to do so. Molly watched him carefully, before glancing around, simultaneously keeping an eye on both Sherlock and the area surrounding them both.

Before she knew what had happened, Molly was pulled into darkness, the consulting detective leading her along a pathway, his way illuminated only by the small light of the torch he'd concealed within his pocket. They manoeuvred along the narrow corridor, stepping over piles of stone and rat droppings, until Sherlock stopped suddenly, causing Molly to walk straight into his back. Without a word, Sherlock pulled himself up onto a ledge before pulling Molly up with him.  
"Wait here.." he whispered softly as he handed her the torch before placing a kiss on her forehead. With that, he slipped over the other side of the ledge and disappeared from her view.

He'd ended up in a tiny crawl space behind a wooden panel, and found that, with some squinting, he could see into the large room on the other side. Mycroft wasn't there, so Sherlock made his way through the crawl space, crouched as low as he could manage, until he heard his brother's voice on the other side of another wooden panel.  
"I know nothing.." Mycroft's voice sounded weak and Sherlock found his stomach knotted. His brother had clearly been tortured, and one glance through the wood was enough to tell him that.  
"You'll crack eventually, Holmes.." a gruff voice from the other side growled at his brother, and Sherlock watched as the owner of the voice ran a sharp knife over Mycroft's bare shoulder, splitting the skin. Mycroft groaned in pain, a sound Sherlock hadn't heard since they were kids.  
"I think we'll leave you here to think about that.." the unidentified man chuckled as he left the room, turning off the light and leaving Mycroft Holmes in pure darkness. As the sound of a heavy lock sliding into place filled the room, Sherlock pushed open the wooden panel and instantly moved towards his brother, moving slowly in the darkness.  
"Don't make a sound.." he whispered quietly in his brother's ear as he pulled out a pocket knife and cut away the ropes wrapped around Mycroft's wrist. Once they were freed, he pulled his brother to a stand and lead him to the wooden panel.  
"Climb in.. Hurry, My.." he glanced back at the door before climbing into the hole behind his brother.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Hello, thank you for your patience. My writing muse is on it's way back, though it's still not quite.. there. So here's a brief chapter to wet your appetite..]

"What do you mean he's gone?" the man in the tall chair growled, his lip curling in annoyance as he stared at the idiots before him. "You let him go?"  
"No sir.. He escaped.. Somehow"  
"This building is impervious. How, exactly, did he escape?"  
"We're.. unsure Sir.."

Jim Moriarty rose from his seat and slowly circled the three idiots who were meant to be keeping an eye on Mycroft Holmes. Stood beside his chair, his faithful sniper Sebastian Moran pulled out his favourite pistol, knowing what was about to happen. The men's eyes were fixed on Jim, following his movements as best they could as he continued to circle them like a hungry shark about to tear into it's prey. Without warning, Jim launched at the man considered the leader of the trio and gripped his neck, squeezing it.  
"You had one job.." he growled, squeezing harder, attempting to drain the life from his victim. The man gasped, slowly blacking out. Jim allowed him to drop, passed out, to the floor before returning to his seat, nodding at Sebastian, who immediately fired three shots. One into the forehead of each of the trio.  
"You just can't get the staff these days, Sebastian.." Jim grumbled, rubbing his eyes as he sat down. "Do me a favour, darling, and find them."

It had taken them quite a bit of time to get Mycroft through the complex tunnels in his injured state, but they finally had. John and Lestrade had turned up almost instantly, pulling Mycroft into the back of a sleek black car, quickly followed by Sherlock and Molly. And now Molly sat, gently applying a cool cloth to Mycroft's head, cooling down the fever that coursed it's way through his body.  
"How is he?" the husky voice of the Consulting Detective made Molly smile, despite the seriousness of the situation.  
"He's getting better, it seems.. John's coming to check on him in a few minutes.." she smiled again as Sherlock rested his chin on her shoulder and planted a kiss on her cheek.  
"You don't have to worry, Sherlock.. He'll be ok.."  
"I'm not worried.." Sherlock straightened up, frowning  
"You don't have to hide it from me.." Molly sighed, placing the cool cloth to the side as she stood to face Sherlock. "He's your brother, you care for him"  
"Ridiculous.." he dismissed her, though his frown had disappeared. Molly moved towards him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.  
"Family is family, Sherlock Holmes.. And it was you who wanted your brother back.."

"Sherlock.." the voice came after two days, thick and heavy and full of exhaustion. The Consulting Detective's hand was instantly holding his brother's. Perhaps Molly was right, he wondered fleetingly.  
"I'm here, My.."  
"How did you-"  
"Don't worry about it. Point is, you're safe now.. You need to get better.. We, erm.. we need your ability to plot."  
"Can't survive long without me, hmm, little brother?"  
"Hardly, you're useless.." Sherlock teased, smiling fondly at his brother, squeezing his hand gently.  
"Hmm, I am right now.."  
"You'll get better."  
"Can you be sure? I feel so weak."  
"You just need sleep."  
"Sherlock.."  
"Shhh My.." the Consulting Detective brushed his fingers through Mycroft's hair, pressing an uncharacteristic kiss to his brother's cheek. "Get some rest."

"He should be fully healed within the next two weeks.." John sat beside Sherlock in the meeting room as the Detective scribbled notes on a piece of paper.  
"Are you sure?"  
"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were worried.."  
"Good thing you know better then.." Sherlock's gaze rose, and he looked John in the eye for a brief second before writing a few more notes.  
"Do you think he'll be able to help?" Molly asked, chewing on the nail on her thumb.  
"He's Mycroft Holmes.. He knows this country better than anyone. He's.." Sherlock paused, looking at his girlfriend before nodding "Yes, he'll be able to help."

Sherlock paced by the entrance to the hall, pondering going out for supplies. There was danger in the air, however. A danger that he wasn't sure about, something he couldn't work out. Moriarty, obviously. He'd have discovered Mycroft was missing weeks ago, but it hadn't bothered Sherlock. It seemed closer now, and his body wouldn't let him relax. There was a knock at the door, and the detective frowned, looking through the spyhole. The sight on the other side of the door made his stomach drop. A tall, rough looking man was on the other side, knocking again as though he knew that Sherlock Holmes was on the other side of the door. Sherlock wasn't stupid though, not by a long shot. He knew the man, recognised him despite them never having met before, and there was no way he was going to allow Sebastian Moran the knowledge that he'd discovered their hiding place.


	4. Chapter 4

"Moran has found us" Sherlock panted, racing into the meeting room and colliding with John Watson, who just happened to be carrying a mug of hot tea that splashed and hit the front of the detective's white shirt.  
"Shit, Sherlock.. Sorry.." John put his mug down on the table and grabbed a tea towel, trying to wipe down Sherlock's shirt only to be brushed away.  
"Forget it.. It doesn't matter" he panted slightly, trying to catch his breath as he shrugged off his shirt, dropping it into the sink. _Mrs Hudson will fix that later_ , he thought to himself, as he turned back to the people in the room.  
"Moran has found us.. Where's Molly?"  
"What?" Lestrade frowned, standing up from his seat.  
"Where's Molly?"  
"No, the other thing.." Sherlock frowned for a moment before realising what Lestrade was on about.  
"Oh. Right. Moran.. Yes.. Lestrade, get everyone into the main hall, we need a proper meeting.. Get Anderson here NOW. And find Molly."

"I think we've found them.." Moran stepped into the grand throne room of Buckingham Palace, rolling his eyes slightly "Why on Earth have you moved here?"  
"Isn't it WONDERFUL Sebby.." Jim chuckled as he jumped to his feet, practically skidding along the fine carpet. The red and gold chairs that once stood, slightly elevated above the rest of the room due to a small platform were gone, replaced by a gold chair that was much more extravagant chair with Jim's initials on the headrest. "Fit for a king, I'd say.."  
"Or a queen.." Moran rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his chest.  
"I do like the finer things, Sebby.. and Buckingham Palace is the finest house in the country... so I took it."  
"What did you do with the Queen?"  
"You lost him, if I recall.."  
"I- Oh."  
"Need to be faster, Sebby.." Jim chuckled, moving towards the windows and fiddling with the long curtains. "I assume you mean the other Queen.. I disposed of her.. needed her walk in wardrobe.. Now, enough about my new house... You were saying..?"

Mycroft pulled himself to his feet, a little shakily but much secured thanks to the small hand under his arm, steadying him. His muscles were weak, but getting stronger, and knowing what he did, Mycroft wouldn't allow himself to sit and recover, he knew that walking would strengthen his muscles. Molly didn't quite agree that he was ready to be up and about, but she helped him anyway. By the time they had completed their seventh lap of the room, Mycroft was much less shaky and able to walk on his own, though slowly. Molly gave a little grin as she watched him move to look out of the window.  
"I'm going to get back to Sherlock.. Are you alright alone?"  
"Yes.. thank you, Miss Hooper.. Much appre-"  
"Molly!" John Watson burst through the door, "Sherlock's looking for you.. Moran has found us.."

The noise in the Great Hall was deafening as Molly made her way down the stairs and towards the stage where an increasingly agitated Sherlock was pacing, waiting for quiet. She glanced around as she moved through the crowd, taking in the room, imagining what it used to look like when it was a bingo hall. She climbed the three steps to the stage, and stood at his side, slipping her hand into his. It seemed to give him a bit of a boost, and he moved towards the microphone.  
"If you could all shut up for two minutes, I have something rather important to say, that could save your life.." Sherlock spoke and Molly couldn't help but smirk. Sherlock was back to normal ever so quickly. "James Moriarty's right hand man has found us.. So there's new rules. No one enters and no one leaves, unless I say so. If you MUST leave for whatever reason, see Anderson who's been put in charge of admittance, and who _hopefully_ won't mess it up. It may be asking a lot. He is an idiot."

"Sherlock.. What do we do?" John asked once they were back in the 'head quarters', Lestrade, Molly and Mrs Hudson present.  
"I'm not sure yet.."  
"What do you mean, you're not sure yet?" Lestrade looked at him, pouring himself a cup of coffee before moving to his usual seat. "I thought you had a plan.."  
"Not yet.. Ideas are formulating. He doesn't know for definite that it's us, but.. He might. He's clever. Not as clever as me or Jim, but he's clever... He's Jim's equivalent of, well, John."  
"Yeah, thanks.." John muttered as Molly stifled a laugh  
"So you have no idea how to put him off the trail?"  
"I might have one.." a voice from the doorway caused them all to stare for a moment before Sherlock rose to his feet.  
"Mycroft, you shouldn't be up.. Come, sit.."


End file.
